Continued from Ngano| The moon and how the world was made
The offspring of Marinda
Mwedzi was restless, tossing and turning throughout the night. Memories of his first night with Nyamatsatsi flooded his mind, making it impossible to sleep. Curiosity gnawed at him, and he awoke early the next morning. As he looked at Marinda, he noticed her body was swollen, just as he had suspected. She seemed uneasy, whimpering in her sleep as if in pain. When she finally opened her eyes, her expression was filled with confusion. Sensing her distress, Mwedzi quickly reassured her. “Everything will be alright,” he said gently.
At daybreak, just as Nyamatsatsi had done before her, Marinda began to bear life. She gave birth to all the birds. The next night, after they lay together again, she bore four-legged creatures—sheep, goats, lions, leopards, elands, and cattle. On the third night, she brought forth boys, and then girls. By evening, the children had grown into adults.
All living beings—humans and animals alike—were Marinda’s offspring, and they lived together in harmony, respecting one another. Each night before coupling, Mwedzi followed the ritual of smearing the sacred oil on both their loins.
On the fourth night, as he peered into his horn, he noticed the oil was nearly gone. A flicker of worry passed through him, but he pushed the thought aside. He dipped his finger into the remaining oil, preparing for their ritual. Just as he was about to anoint himself and Marinda, a deafening roar of thunder split the sky.
The thunderstorm
Dark clouds gathered in the sky, swirling like an impending storm. Heavy raindrops pelted the ground, and within moments, a torrential downpour consumed the land. Thunder rumbled, roaring with fury, while jagged streaks of lightning slashed through the heavens. The sky had declared war on the earth.
Some animals scurried for shelter, others huddled together, while a few remained in the open, standing defiantly against the storm. The children, frightened by the chaos, ran to Mwedzi and Marinda, clinging to them as they all huddled inside the hut, trembling in fear.
Then, Nyadenga’s voice boomed across the sky. “Mwedzi, do not go through with this act. If you do, you will seal your fate.”
The storm gradually quieted, the winds eased, and the thunder faded into silence. Nyadenga was gone. And with him, his voice—never to be heard again.
Mwedzi was shaken, but Marinda refused to surrender to fear. Determined, she turned to him. “We must hide from Nyadenga,” she insisted. “Make a door to close the entrance of the hut. That way, he will not see what we do.”
Mwedzi hesitated but eventually agreed. He built a door, sealing the entrance to their shelter. That night, believing themselves hidden from the heavens, Mwedzi and Marinda lay together once more.
The snake
As before, Marinda awoke the next morning, her body swollen and ready to give birth. This time, she brought forth reptiles, insects, scorpions, and spiders. Among them was the snake. Nyadenga, foreseeing the consequences of Mwedzi’s defiance, was displeased by his continued disregard for caution.
On the fifth night, Marinda refused to lie with Mwedzi. “Listen,” she said. “Any woman who spends the night with you will bear children. Your daughters are now grown—surely, you could lie with them instead.”
Mwedzi considered her words and found no reason to object. His daughters had blossomed into beautiful young women. Accepting Marinda’s suggestion, he allowed her to send them to him, and that night, he lay with them.
By dawn, his daughters bore many sons and daughters, who, by nightfall, had already matured into adults. As time passed, they set out in different directions, founding their own clans.
A vast kingdom soon emerged. Its people thrived as hunters, gatherers, and farmers, shaping the land to sustain their growing numbers. They built a grand city of stone houses, and as generations passed, more people were born, spreading across the earth.
Death
After sending her daughters off to Mwedzi, Marinda developed a close bond with the snake. This creature, however, was a mysterious and suspicious figure. The two coexisted, but Marinda was no longer able to have children. Meanwhile, Mwedzi was growing older and more weary with each passing day. He became increasingly concerned about Marinda. Soon, it would be two years since she had joined him, but now she lived with the snake. He longed to be with her again.
One night, he visited her and asked if they could sleep together. Marinda hesitated. “I now live with the snake and can no longer be with you,” she replied. “You must leave.” But Mwedzi was determined. Unaware that the snake was coiled on the other side of the hut, he lay down beside her on the sleeping mat. Upon seeing this, the snake was filled with rage and quickly slithered over to Mwedzi, striking him on the leg. The snake’s venom poisoned Mwedzi, and he fell gravely ill.
Mwedzi’s illness lingered, and the rainy season passed without a single drop of rain. The land dried up, leaving plants and animals without water, and soon the plants withered. It was then that Rufu (meaning ‘death’) spread across the earth. Both people and animals began to starve, and many died. It seemed as though Mwedzi’s illness was draining the life from all creation.
Filled with remorse, Mwedzi realized that he had chosen the path to death. It was he who had brought death upon the world. If only he had listened to Musiki’s warning, things would not have spiraled out of control. He could have lived in peace with Marinda. Now, there was rivalry between him and the snake, and to his children, the snake had become an enemy.
Summoning all his children, they gathered around him, their faces long and sorrowful. “I am dying, and all of creation seems to be dying with me,” Mwedzi said. “I cannot allow this. We must consult the diviner, so he can show us the way.” Since they could no longer hear the voice of Nyadenga, they now sought guidance from the diviner.
The diviner
The diviner arrived and sat beside where Mwedzi lay. He took a calabash of snuff, poured a little into his palm, and sniffed a pinch into each nostril. With an explosive sneeze, he began his work. From a small pouch around his neck, he retrieved his divination tools, which included small carved pieces of wood and other peculiar trinkets.
He scattered the bones onto the floor, then began chanting and clapping. After a brief moment of silence, he carefully examined the bones. The air was thick with tension. Slowly, he lifted his head, looked intently at Mwedzi’s children, and shook his head. “Death wants him,” the diviner said. “There is nothing more we can do.”
His children were overcome with sorrow and began to weep. Mwedzi, with what little strength he had left, comforted them and gave his final wish: to rest in Dziva, the place of his origin. No sooner had he spoken than his body gave way to the venom of the snake, and he breathed his last. It had been exactly two years since Marinda’s creation.
They took Mwedzi’s body to Dziva, the lake, and laid him to rest in its waters. Marinda was heartbroken. “What have I done?” she cried. “I was created for Mwedzi, and yet I failed him. There is nothing left for me. I should join him.” Marinda disappeared, and after several days, her lifeless body was found near the lake. Some believed she died of a broken heart. Her children, grieving deeply, placed her body into Dziva, so she could join Mwedzi in the water where he rested.
A new beginning
Then the rain fell again, and life was restored to all creation. Though death’s reign ceased, it did not fully leave the earth. The people recognized that an enemy now walked among them. Because of the snake’s actions, boundaries were established between humans and animals. Many animals left to form their own kingdom in the wild. Nyadenga took Mwedzi and Marinda and returned them to the sky, restoring them to their former state before they came to the earth.
To this day, you may sometimes spot Nyamatsatsi in the morning sky or Marinda in the evening sky. And more often than not, Mwedzi can be seen in the night sky.
This is the tale of Nyadenga, Mwedzi, and the dawn of life on earth.
‘Ngano yaMwedzi nerusiko’ is an adaptation, by Shungu Constance Chidovi, of a creation story of the VaShona. The recording of this legend is attributed to Leo Frobenius (1873–1938). Illustrations used: Cloud, sky and lightning, by Greystroke; Enormous sea hugging the hills, Snake, and Forest by Maya Ramaswamy; Animals by Rob Owen; edit of Ape and crocodile by Abraham Muzee; edit of A boy flying into the sky by Vishnu M Nair; Water splashing, and edit of Girl with her hand on her head by Upamanyu Bhattacharyya; all published under a CC BY 4.0 license on StoryWeaver.